Raise a Glass to Turnings of the Season
by ThatChildIsBacon
Summary: Fuzzy with wine and good food, Will wanted to share something with Hannibal, something good from his younger day. A hazy, half-remembered game they used to play, bright in his memory like faded sunshine. It doesn't end the way he was expecting. PROMPT: Hannigram similar moment to Sherlock and John drunk playing the headbands game with Hannibal having a trashy TV show celeb to guess


Dinner with Hannibal was, historically, an uncomfortably formal affair; or at least that was how Will used to view it. It's not that he saw himself as uncultured, he had about as polished table manners as any _reasonable_ person would. But when your host was a man who exuded an impenetrable aura of decorum, it was hard not to feel lacklustre in comparison. Since their becoming, however, Will liked to think that maybe things had shifted between them.

After they had healed up and moved on, Hannibal had settled them into one of his safe houses. A typically grandiose Baroque building in Southern France, fully paid for years ago under an appropriately pretentious alias. Though they had yet to settle some of the nuances of their relationship, a squalling fleshy lump of a thing that had yet to properly take form, they had settled remarkably well into a together.

Not everything had or maybe even could be resolved, but for the time being they were some form of content. On a good day, maybe even happy. There were gaps in Hannibal's perfectly tailored armour, Will could see them all too clearly now, crevices filled with the burning embers of Wills influence. And of course, he would be blind not to see that Hannibal too had left his mark. A distinct otherness, dark and deceptively placid, ran through him like a vein of shimmering gold.

Their life, relationship, and future may have- when glimpsed through the veil of uncertainty surrounding them- had the feel of an Escher, but for the time being their games lived in. Which was how they found themselves sprawled in the richly furnished drawing room after one too many drinks. A near empty bottle of hideously expensive wine on the ornate wooden coffee table, its twin- triplet? - still in the dining room, drained dry and truly the kindling to this whole affair. Their armchairs, lavish things made of intricately carved deep rose wood and upholstered in soft velvet, were pulled uncharacteristically close together, breaking the boundaries that had been choking them since they came to this place. Boundaries- Will was ashamed to say- he had inadvertently put in place.

This was no longer the case, drunk as they were on vintage wine and good food. Drunk as he was on Hannibal's company.

Will had distant memories of playing dumb drinking games back in his academy days, ever hazy though they were when glimpsed through the distorted lenses of time and drink. The Name Game was their usual fare, though often their fuddles minds had tainted it with elements of something else. This was what he wanted to share with Hannibal, a drunken quid pro quo, a small piece of the life he had once lead, long ago. The game itself was tedious, but the company, the company made it the most enjoyable evening Will remembered having in a long time.

What a sight Hannibal made, sharply tailored three piece somewhat dishevelled from the lateness of the hour, crystal wine glass dangling from long fingers, posture full of poise and grace as ever it was, barely tainted by the alcohol which ignited a shining glaze in his eyes. And of course a slip of paper adorned with Will's less than stellar handwriting stuck to his forehead. Will could scarcely control the bouts of laughter that danced at the back of his throat.

Far from the annoyance he was sure it would illicit, it seemed that Hannibal shone just that little bit brighter each and every time laughter forced its way from Will's throat. Something in the open softness of his face.

"Are you going to start, Will?" Hannibal asked, an easy smile languishing in the creases of his eyes.

"If you insist." Will shifted forward in his chair, leaning precariously towards on the edge to get closer to him.

"You were the one who suggested this game" Hannibal shrugged, seemingly unaffected.

"And you were too drunk to say no" he grinned, toasting his glass and coming precariously close to spilling the wine.

Hannibal acquiesced with a smile and a shake of his head. This soft affection was so new, and so very welcome.

"Okay then," Will continued, placing his wine glass on a small side-table with exaggerated care so that he could clap his hands together softly, "yes or no questions, remember."

Hannibal's reply was to sip from his glass in fond amusement.

"Okay, am I edible?"

"Everything is edible to some degree, Will."

"Walked straight into that one" Will grumbled, good-naturedly "alright fine, am I a vegetable?"

"No, you're not a vegetable"

"Damn, okay your turn" Will's smile was almost blinding, before he hid it behind his regained glass.

"Am I human?"

"So they say" Will grinned toothily, head cocked in drunken humour.

Hannibal hummed softly, pleasantly lax. "Am I famous?"

"Famous enough for me to know in any case. Okay my turn, am I human?"

"Yes, though I'm sure you'd rather not be"

"Cryptic as usual."

"I wouldn't want to getting bored." Hannibal's grin was, frankly, too full of sharp teeth. Will found it strangely endearing. "Am I a man?"

Will's breathy "Nope" was entirely distracted, eyes fixated on that mouth. He wanted to touch his tongue to those teeth. He drained his glass, as if he could drown out the thought.

"Am I attractive then?"

"Are you asking me if you're a pretty lady?" His hands fumbled with the wine glass, almost dropping the no doubt priceless crystal before he regained enough sense to surrender t back to the table.

"It's a reasonable question. What you deem beautiful would give me an idea of who I am supposed to guess."

"Well what about me, am I pretty?"

"Handsome would be closer to the mark, though your nature may work against your looks."

"I'm a handsome gentleman am I?" Will giggled. With his brain pleasantly offline from his usual miasma of troubles, he found it difficult to remember the last time he had felt so relaxed. He leant forward, though he knew not whether to make another point, or because Hannibal was a magnetic presence and he was weak to resist it. Sloppy in his movements, Will's smooth invasion of intimate space ended with him near sprawled on the floor at Hannibal's feet, one hand splayed perilously high up his thigh. A soft huff of laughter.

"I don't mind" Will heard himself mumble in a half slur. His face heated almost immediately as his brain caught up with his mouth.

Hannibal merely smiled that soft, worn in smile. He looked beautiful in the fire's flickering half-light, the shadows deepening the peaks and falls of that face he knew so well. Will was struck dumb.

Hannibal placed his glass down with a soft clink, which sounded almost deafening in their suspended moment. Will's throat clicked as he swallowed, mouth dry with their closeness.

He didn't expect the strong, calloused fingers trailing softly over his own. The meat of Hannibal's thigh was so warm under his hands. It was all he could focus on.

Movements slow and sticky with wine, Hannibal trailed the backs of his fingers across Wills cheek, thumb softly caressing the long scar Francis had gifted him. Will gave a slight shudder, an uptick in his breath betraying the onslaught of arousal.

Hannibal's lips were soft, much softer than they looked. His teeth, however, were every bit as sharp. He kissed with a leisurely, all-consuming focus, tongue hot and wet where it met Will's. Teeth rough where they nibbled the soft flesh of his lips. Mouth a burning, wet cavern, where once it had spewed its manipulative vitriol, its warnings of revenge, its promises of love. Hands that inflicted such violence giving nothing but soft caresses, fingers tangled up in hair and laced with Wills' own.

Sprawled drunkenly over on another, back-lit by firelight while soft flesh wrote new promises, Will could scarcely wait to find out what other contradictory nuances his body held.


End file.
